Author's note: this chapter has been edited to erase grammar and spelling mistakes

Sorry for the long break between updates. Things in my life run faster than the Millenium Falcon.

Credit where it's due: this chapter contains quotes from or is otherwise inspired by: "The Old Republic: Rescue Mission (2015) Short Film", "Batman: The dark knight rises" and "Ghost of Tsushima"

~ 19 ~

Blood hunter

- What is the price of war? -

Kenshin Kano landed with silent but forceful grace on the sandy floor of the Geonosis arena. The harsh desert sun beat down, casting long shadows across the battlefield as the roar of the crowd echoed above. With a rapid, fluid motion, Kenshin unhooked his lightsaber from his belt and, with a flick of his wrist, hurled it through the air toward Anakin.

The young man swiftly ignited it. The angry snap-hiss of was drowned out by the thunderous eruption around the arena as nearly two hundred more lightsabers blazed to life in perfect synchronization. A rescue force of Jedi had arrived!

Mace Windu led the charge, his presence commanding and fierce as he intervened with an entire assault team. Despite the best efforts of the Jedi, the battle was far from over. The scene turned chaotic, a deadly inferno of flashing lightsabers and explosive blaster bolts. The battle became a horrendous disaster, later to be reported as one of the most devastating events in the history of the Jedi Order.

Down in the arena, Kenshin created a protective shield with the Force, trying to shield those around him from the relentless barrages of blaster bolts threatening to obliterate them. He sent shockwaves to knock down rows of droids at once, but they came in such dense and never-ending waves that even for him, it was overwhelming. The more destructive attacks he was capable of would have felled everything and everyone—droid and Jedi alike—so there was no possible way of applying them without causing more harm than good. The battle saw Jedi falling one by one until only a small team remained.

Only when Master Yoda arrived, leading dozens of gunships and their Clone crews, did the tide begin to turn. Republic Clones and Jedi faced battalions of battle droids in fierce altercations, their lightsabers clashing with the relentless onslaught of metal adversaries.

Count Dooku fled the arena, and Obi-Wan and Anakin pursued him, intercepting him at the last moment, just as he prepared to board a sleek, small starship of Serennian design. A fierce lightsaber duel ensued, with both Obi-Wan and Anakin fighting valiantly, but even their combined efforts were to no avail. Dooku toyed with the two Jedi, his mastery of the Force and lightsaber combat overwhelming. It wasn't long before both Kenobi and Skywalker lay on the ground, defeated and wounded. Anakin's injuries were severe, his forearm severed from his body.

"And so it ends," Dooku said with a cold, arrogant smile as he stepped closer, his footsteps echoing menacingly in the vast hangar.

"I do not think so," came a voice with a strange accent. Surprised, the Serennian turned and watched a purple lightsaber blaze to life. With a sharp rasp, a second sword, this one had a metal blade, was unsheathed.

Bursts of electricity crackled around the curved blade, and Dooku instantly recognized who stood before him.

The memory of their duel was as sharp as the edge of a lightsaber. Kenshin had been relentless, his mastery of the blade so complete that Dooku had been forced into a retreat, a humiliation he had never known before. The shame of that defeat still burned, made worse by the need to report his failure to his Master, Darth Sidious. Sidious had reacted with an eerie calmness, a reaction that had only deepened Dooku's unease. He had expected major repercussions as a consequence of his derailed mission but had been met only with frustrated silence.

Of course, Dooku had then conducted investigations on his own after this unsettling event. The man went by the name of Kenshin Kano, a Jedi Master trained by Yoda and Mace Windu during his final Padawan years before being knighted at a too-young age. Recently, he had become Master to Anakin Skywalker. With the exception of Yoda, Kenshin was the strongest in the Force Dooku had ever encountered in a Jedi. Maybe not as strong as the so-called Chosen One, but unlike the arrogant, spoiled brat, Kano knew exactly what he was doing, and that made him inherently dangerous. And he was also strong in the dark side, possibly stronger than Dooku himself, as he begrudgingly realized.

But that exact fact could make Kano a valuable piece in the puzzle Dooku wanted to put together. He had also found out that Kano didn't have the best standing amongst his fellow Jedi. He was said to be a heretic, bold and defiant, often at odds with the guidelines that the Jedi Order wanted its members to follow. Given how obviously cruel and ruthless a warrior Kano was, Dooku wondered how he was even tolerated within the Jedi Order.

Dooku quickly fought back a surging memory, full of painful regret. He had known another Jedi in his own days, powerful but too different. Too extreme. Sifo-Dyas had been his best friend when they had been Padawans. Too different. How the Jedi Order had always ostracized Sifo, and what Dooku had had to do at the end of poor Sifo's life, were some of the few things he regretted. In the end, Sidious had deemed Sifo-Dyas and his powerful visions too much of a threat, and Dooku had done what he had to do.

If this Jedi Master could be swayed and shaped, especially without Sidious' knowledge, a threat could be turned into an asset. Kano probably wouldn't yield to the temptations of money or status, but offering him an opportunity to fulfill his purpose could have an irresistible draw.

Maybe that was exactly the gift the Force was trying to give him. Someone powerful, with the urge to question and change the established, rigid, flawed ways. Maybe this unlikely Jedi was the key. Maybe Kano was his chance. A chance to do better and succeed.

As their glances met, Dooku read recognition in Kano's eyes. The Jedi Master knew exactly who he was. Along with the recognition, there was a terrible determination—a chilling resolve to finish what had begun during their first encounter. The intent to kill emanated from Kano like the inexorable chill of a Hoth glacier.

For an uncomfortable instant, Dooku felt a flash of panic. The memory of how close he had come to death resurfaced, unbidden, and for the first time in many years, Dooku found himself questioning the outcome of a duel. He quickly reprimanded himself. 'Get ahold of yourself.' This was not a moment for weakness.

"Ah, Master Kano! I am relieved to see you have recovered from our last encounter," Dooku taunted, his tone dripping with condescension. "What was the reason you and your apprentice intruded on my yacht? I must admit, you have surprised me. Never have I seen such exquisite swordsmanship, nor such brutality from someone who claims to be a member of our venerated Jedi Order! You've proven the first worthy opponent I have faced in a long time. What a pity I had to inflict so much damage."

"Cut the crap, you chickenshit tottery old fuck!" Kano spat back, his eyes blazing with contempt. "You faced me only after setting your pack of robot watchdogs on me, along with that bogwitch. Then you ran instead of finishing the job. Like an old dog who needed help to chew a bone too hard for him, and even then you couldn't swallow."

"What a vulgar choice of words! So uncivilized! Does this beseem a Jedi Master?" Dooku commented, his demeanor obnoxiously regal and sophisticated.

"As much as running from a Jedi, tail between the legs, beseems a so-called Sith Lord? Or your fighting style that has seen better days! You should have some breakfast first before you suck my dick!"

"Now, now! Is there a reason to be so abusive? I am no Sith Lord! I seek to destroy them! I must also remark that this is a most curious weapon you wield, Jedi friend. Why haul around such a flashy sword with a dead blade?"

"You'll feel it when I slice your head off!"

"And why would you do that? We need not be enemies! On the contrary! You should consider joining me, consider all the possibilities I have to offer. Your strength in the Force is remarkable. Just imagine how you could change the galaxy for the better, having access to my resources and not being limited by the restraints the Jedi lay upon you! From what I have learned, you clearly see the failures of the Jedi Order and the corrupt Republic yourself. Why do you still hold your loyalty toward a degenerated institution that has given in to complacency and hypocrisy?"

"The Republic is flawed, so is the Jedi Order. Both can be bettered. You, on the other hand? You speak of a new beginning while you're striving for tyranny. You want power for power's sake, nothing more."

"Oh, but you are mistaken, Master Kano. What I want is an honest, a real democracy! Chancellor Palpatine has promised to cut bureaucracy, and yet the bureaucrats are stronger than ever. As I have already explained to our dear Senator Amidala, the Republic cannot be fixed. It is time to start over! The time will come when that cult of greed will lose even the pretext of democracy and freedom. The Sith are on the rise, we both know it. Join me, and we will destroy them together!"

"You have such beautiful words. If only they weren't such a big fat lie."

Kano took a step forward, casually twirling his lightsaber. The deep buzz of the blade spoke of menace and the lethal violence its wielder was intent to unleash.

"You're powerful, but foolish, my friend!" Dooku said, smiling coldly. Blue Force lightning shot from his hands.

Kano shielded himself with his lightsaber, stepping closer with unshakeable resolve.

In a quick, precise motion, faster than light, Dooku ignited his lightsaber and surged forward. He opened with a devious feint, followed by a precise riposte, thrusting his blade toward his opponent's eyes—a move that had won him many duels upon the first strike.

But this time, his blade met a jarring stop.

Matching Dooku's speed, Kano dodged the thrust and locked the blade. Dooku's eyes widened. The Jedi was blocking his blade with his bare hand, red sparks flying wildly.

For an instant, the Count could study his opponent's face up close. There was a calm, cold composure—almost serenity.

The self-assured smile on Dooku's lips died, distorted into a cruel grimace. Inhale. Exhale. Finally, he felt it—his anger, his strength. He would not allow this Jedi to play with him. Fool! He then chided himself. This was exactly what Kano needed. This Jedi was a Master of Vaapad and would use his anger against him. He had to be more clever than that!

Dooku retreated slightly, guiding his blade into a light but vicious cut. Abruptly, he changed the trajectory of his blade and surged forward again.

This thrust penetrated Kano's defense, singeing his tunic. The Jedi dodged again, narrowly avoiding a lethal hit. A few more centimeters and this would have been his heart.

Dooku gave a mocking smile. "Now, Master Kano. Don't disappoint me. Surely you can do better!"

Kenshin responded with an unimpressed smile.

Back and forth, back and forth, they traded blows, neither gaining ground. Dooku's flourishes and footwork were impeccable, flawless. But his enemy kept up with his pace.

What is he doing? Dooku wondered. Was his opponent observing, awaiting his moment? Or was he at his wits' end? His eyes revealed nothing. His aura was unreadable. There was nothing he could sense through the Force.

"Is this all you have to offer? I for sure expected more!" the Count scoffed. 'Provoke him. Know your strengths, and exploit them,' he thought.

'Careful what you wish for,' a demonic voice echoed in Dooku's head. What was this? Kano's lips had never moved; he had not spoken a word in response to his mockery.

A volley of blows rained down on Dooku at an inhuman rhythm. Every move of Kano's was of shocking pinpoint accuracy. The power in his offense grew with each strike. Dooku had always honed his defense, his precision, his speed to the point of being instinctual. It had always been him who had been the unpredictable one. No matter how powerful an enemy's attacks, by deflecting and evading them rather than trying to meet them head-to-head, he could wear them out and wait until his precise ripostes and vicious feints would overwhelm them. The fury he faced now was different. It brought sweat to his brows.

Kano's attacks came at a hellish pace. The way he moved had changed. It was a form that Dooku recognized, in parts, from their first encounter. Many moves were completely new. Only the Force allowed him to keep up with the intricate paths and the speed of Kano's blades.

In a way, it was poetic, his opponent's moves of devilish beauty.

Then he remembered the mistake he had made the last time, which had cost him dearly.

Focus, he scolded himself.

There was no time to think.

Dooku parried an attack from one blade and blocked the second. The ground shook from the impact as the two opponents collided. The Count grimaced in pain; his joints didn't take kindly to an attack with that much raw energy.

How much longer would he be able to resist? Long enough for his enemy to grow tired so he could strike? Falling back on anger would only make Kano stronger. Nothing would stop him. Nothing, only the true, sheer power of the dark side.

Dooku reached into the Force, again, but deeper this time. He dove into the dark and called on its terrible, devastating power.

[Can you extend the following text passage how Kenshin senses a force presence that is not Dooku, and that must bne Sidious' presence? I feel that my text is a little shallow and doesn't capture the severity of the moment:

Kenshin's focus was razor-sharp, every fiber of his being honed to a single purpose. But then, something dark and twisted began to seep into the air, a suffocating presence that wasn't Dooku's alone. Kenshin's breath hitched as he felt it, a cold, creeping sensation that sent icy tendrils of dread through his veins. The strength Dooku was now drawing upon was not his own—something far more malevolent was at play.

He sensed that the strength Dooku was now drawing on was not purely his own. A Master always left an imprint on their apprentice—a subtle echo of their influence in the Force, a reflection of their teachings intertwined with the learner's essence. This was an ancient, malignant power, one that stained Dooku's presence with a corruption that sickened the very air around them.

He had encountered this signature before, a stench so vile, the most terrifying thing he had ever felt in the Force in his entire life. A black hole in the Force, devouring all light, all hope. The memory of that encounter resurfaced with brutal clarity, and for the first time in many years, Kenshin felt a primal, gut-wrenching fear take hold.

What was this? WHO was this?

He couldn't allow it to prevail. The fear clawed at him, threatening to overwhelm his senses, to paralyze him with the sheer magnitude of what he faced. He stumbled, his mind briefly clouded by the intensity of the darkness pressing in on him. But then, deep within his psyche, something ancient stirred.

Distant and muffled in his mind, the angry cry of a Yashkaru—the mystic creatures of his homeworld that lived in the shadows, just like he had for so long. Something in him awoke. Primal and powerful. Conscious thought didn't cease to exist but stepped back into the hidden depths of his mind. Now, there was only raw, unyielding instinct. There was only him, two blades, and one purpose. The evil in front of him would be destroyed. He would not merely kill the Sith Lord—he would annihilate him. And he would make him suffer for everything the Sith had done. In this moment, nothing else mattered.

Kenshin attacked.

The Jedi launched himself at Dooku with a ferocity that defied reason. All the Count saw was a blur of purple, deadly light. Kano's lightsaber came down on him with the wrath of a thousand demons. His metal blade moved in an opposite trajectory. Dooku sensed both and moved to parry. The block met empty air. The Jedi had retracted his lightsaber, dodged the red blade, and sliced his katana through Dooku's wrist.

The Count screamed. Unspeakable pain surged up his arm as he watched his sword hand fly off, along with his weapon.

Kano sheathed his metal sword, his eyes glittering with terrible intent. This was not over yet.

Dooku noticed a strange, nauseous feeling in his midsection. His knees buckled, and an uncomfortable pressure was being applied to his windpipe. A very unregal sickness rolled through his stomach. He couldn't move; he was caught, stuck in an adamant hold, and his vision blurred. Images suddenly lit up in his mind.

His sister Jenza, on Serenno. She was dying at his feet. It was he who had delivered the killing blow. Sifo-Dyas, his childhood friend, with his face distorted in pain. Lene Kostana, his friend and Sifo's Master, hurt, crouched in the dust and bleeding, a large bird—a convor—flapping its wings and circling around her, emitting devastated cries. His sister again, only this time it was his hated father torturing her.

Jedi did not deliberately kill. They didn't, did they?

He felt a sharp pang of agony in his skull, a hot knife stabbing, then turning, and finally carving as if to slice his brain in half. It burrowed deeper into his subconscious, exploding, sending a thousand smoldering shards in every direction, conjuring up more buried fears and nightmares and ripping them free to the surface.

Dooku stared in anguish into his opponent's eyes. Jedi defended and protected; they never attacked. Jedi had mercy. Kano had none. His eyeballs had turned to black, and the previously dark brown irises now shone with a faint, eerie purple light. A dark, reddish liquid trickled from his eyes and nose. Blood. Some powers of the dark side came with a heavy price, and this man paid it without the slightest hesitation. Dooku's entire body trembled with the chills running down his spine. His veins were now flooding with shaky adrenaline. An overwhelming rush of helplessness and terror erased any thought.

"What...what sorcery is this!" Dooku croaked. He sensed the very essence of his being beginning to slip away, out of his grasp, out of his control. This was what dying felt like.

Helplessly, he gasped for air, but bit by bit, he drifted further into a great, unfathomable nothing.

"NO! STOP THIS!"

A small figure hurried towards them and raised a Force shield, blocking the deadly stream that was erasing Dooku's existence bit by bit. The Count crashed hard onto the ground, heaving. Yoda? He was protecting him? He scrambled, using the remnants of energy he still had, and darted toward his ship.

Kano roared in anger. He pushed to get past Yoda's blockade. The Grandmaster turned and saw the Count attempting to flee.

He could either stop Dooku from escaping or block and control Kenshin's explosion of dark energy. Not both. Let Dooku live and escape, or capture him, risking death at Kano's hands.

Attachments, forbidden they are.

Yoda's body was shaking. Dooku had once been his Padawan, just like Kenshin, even though Kenshin had never acknowledged that.

Kill, a Jedi does not. Protect and value all life, they must.

He let Dooku go.

The atmosphere in the Council chamber was colder than the icy plains of Hoth. The stark, austere room seemed to amplify the tension, every breath a visible fog of unease. Obi-Wan centered himself, striving to calm his mind, though the effort felt like trying to halt a storm with a whisper. The events of the past days had been deeply unsettling, their weight almost unbearable. Part of him felt grateful that Padawan Skywalker had been unconscious during the most harrowing moments, sparing him from witnessing his Master's darkest actions.

The Council had wanted to capture Dooku, not spark a war. Yet, the Battle of Geonosis had done exactly that, heralding a looming conflict between the Galactic Republic and the Confederacy of Independent Systems. The question gnawed at Obi-Wan's conscience: did the ends justify the means Master Kano had employed? Did victory justify forsaking the Jedi's ideals and embracing the dark side's unspeakable cruelty?

Obi-Wan shuddered, haunted by the memories of the duel between Dooku and the young Jedi Master. The powers on display had been terrifying, abominations that should never exist, let alone be wielded by a Jedi. Had Yoda not intervened, Dooku would have faced a gruesome end, one that might have prevented the war now on the horizon. Obi-Wan's thoughts drifted to the Jedi lost in the arena, friends and comrades whose deaths weighed heavily on his heart. Tears welled in his eyes.

Kano, in stark contrast, was a cauldron of barely contained fury. Obi-Wan glanced at the younger Jedi, noting the raw intensity of his emotions. He understood the frustration; he felt it too. But Kano's rage, however justified, wouldn't help anyone, least of all himself. Anakin, his Padawan, sat lost in his thoughts, his new cybernetic hand gleaming in the rays of the setting sun. Kenshin appeared physically unscathed, but the turmoil within him was palpable.

Breaking all protocol, Kenshin's voice cut through the tense silence before the Grandmaster had even opened the Council session. "Nearly 200 Jedi have died, and you kept me from bringing the one responsible to justice!" His fists were clenched.

"To kill him brutally and in cold blood you attempted. Sith magic you used. Betrayed the Jedi way, you have!" Yoda's voice was a thunderous reprimand, his cane striking the floor with a resounding crack. The ancient Master rose, his diminutive form exuding a presence that commanded absolute respect. He took two steps toward Kenshin.

"You put a Code, a lifeless set of ideals, above the life of sentient beings? Above the life of 200 siblings in the Force? You're a soulless monster!" Kenshin's retort was venomous, his anger unyielding.

"Master Kano! You are in the presence of the Grandmaster of the Jedi Order and the High Council. You will reign in your temper!" Windu's voice boomed, the authority in his tone undeniable.

"The fuck I will!" Kenshin hissed, turning to face Windu. The chamber resonated with gasps. Such blatant disrespect was unheard of. Windu, his patience at an end, ignited his lightsaber, bringing its deadly tip within inches of Kenshin's throat.

"GUARDS!" Windu's shout echoed through the chamber as he held his ground, the blade's hum a stark reminder of the deadly force it represented.

Kenshin didn't flinch. He stepped closer, almost daring Windu to strike. The Korun Master instinctively pulled back his blade, just slightly, enough to prevent contact but not enough to show weakness. They stood, face to face, so close they could distinguish the pumped, red blood vessels in each other's eyes, the air between them charged with the clash of ideologies. Windu's eyes burned with righteous indignation, defending the rules that formed the foundation of the Jedi Order, principles he would die to uphold.

"Have you no honor?" Windu's voice dripped with disdain.

"Honor?" Kenshin's growl was filled with raw emotion. "Honor died in the arena!" His voice echoed through the chamber, a chilling reminder of the battle's devastating toll.

The Council chamber was silent, the weight of Kenshin's words hanging heavy in the air. The Jedi present were forced to confront the harsh reality of their losses and the darker path one of their own had chosen. The tension was a palpable, suffocating presence, underscoring the fractures within the Order as it faced an uncertain future.

The temple guards arrived swiftly, and Kenshin followed them without further protest but not without sending Windu a deathly glare. Everyone in the Council room remained silent. The silence of shock and disbelief of what they had just witnessed. Anakin's widened eyes followed his mentor being led away by the guards, and then sought support in the only person he imagined wouldn't chastise him right away. Like a slave boy expecting punishment. Obi-Wan met his glance. He gently laid a hand on the boy's shoulder and said: "Come. I believe there is a few things we should talk about."

The cell was a barren, cold void, the very essence of desolation. The sparse, gray walls seemed to absorb any warmth or comfort that dared enter. Dim lighting cast long shadows that danced with an eerie stillness. Even though these cells were part of it, the Jedi Temple, with its majestic halls and serene chambers, seemed worlds away from this grim corner. Hardly anyone ever gave reason to be held here; it was a place reserved for the ones who had committed the gravest of transgressions.

Mace Windu hadn't set foot in the Temple's detention block in years. He had decided to let the despicable insurgent marinate in his confinement for several days before coming to interrogate him. He stepped into the cell. Kano was sitting on the ground, completely still, his back against the opposite wall, legs folded underneath him, arms tucked within the sleeves of his tunic. His face was hidden by the hood pulled over his head. He showed no visible or otherwise palpable reaction as Mace stepped closer. It kept creeping him out how Kano could conceal his Force signature to the point of imperceptibility. Only Mace's eyes told him he was there, right in front of him, but it could have just as easily been a statue. He couldn't even see him breathe.

"You're insane," Mace said, the words escaping before he could hold them back. His voice was laced with a mixture of disbelief and frustration.

Kano's head tilted slightly, just enough to reveal a hint of a smirk. "You're a legalistic, lightsaber-stuck-up-your-ass hypocrite, and you call me insane," he replied, his tone dry and calm.

Mace's eyes narrowed, his anger barely contained. "Are you even remotely aware of what you have done? You're no Jedi. You're a blood hunter," he accused, his voice trembling with barely suppressed rage.

"You hate me. And I know very well why you hate me. I am everything you are but are too much of a coward to admit. We're at war, Windu!" Kenshin's voice remained eerily calm, but his words cut deep.

Oh, how he hated Kano's exotic accent and the way he pronounced his name. "War gives you no right to violate every law in the book. It gives you no right to touch the dark side!" Mace snapped, his voice rising with indignation.

"Oh, does it not? We're both warriors, that's the reality of it. Only that you still claim to be a peacekeeper. We, the Jedi, have no business in war and are in it anyway. We could as well get our act together and end it quick and decisively." Kano's calm demeanor seemed to infuriate Mace even more.

"By brutal violence? By abandoning our ways?" Mace's voice cracked, revealing a mix of frustration and sorrow.

"I have seen war. And oppression. What it does to people. What will it do to an entire galaxy? I have seen war. Have you?" Unlike in the Council chamber, where Kano had burst at the seams with rage, his voice was now calm and monotone, almost resigned.

"I have seen civilization! And that it needs order. We are no more than mindless beasts if we forget that. There are rules, and rules must be followed!" Mace's voice was filled with a desperate plea, a hope that some part of his words would reach Kano.

"There's a point, Mace, where the structures fail you, and the rules aren't weapons anymore, but shackles letting the bad guy get ahead!" Kenshin's eyes flashed with intensity, a spark of the fire that lay within.

"And you're the good guy?" Mace's voice dripped with sarcasm, his patience wearing thin.

"Define good! And do not presume to tell me my path when you walk yours blind." Kenshin's voice was a low growl, filled with a challenge that sent chills down Mace's spine.

Only now did Kenshin lift his head and stare Windu in the eyes. Where Mace had hoped to find at least a trace of sense and discernment, there was only defiance. It was pointless. He shook his head and left. If anyone was able to talk sense into this... Mace lacked a proper word; it certainly wasn't him. There is no emotion, there is peace. He would not give in; no, he wasn't allowed to hate Kano. As much as he wanted to, as much as the man found a way to push every single one of his buttons.

Leaving the prison tract, he found the Grandmaster already waiting, as if he had sensed that he was now needed. Yoda only nodded. No need for Mace to explain anything

The door opened for a second time within the same hour. This time, Kenshin rose from the floor, his posture tense and unyielding. His eyes narrowed to slits as he looked at Yoda, the room's dim light casting deep shadows across his face.

"Get the fuck out!" Kenshin spat, turning his back to the old Jedi.

"Very concerned I am, my old Padawan," Yoda replied, his voice a blend of sorrow and concern.

Kenshin bristled at Yoda using that term, but he held his tongue, his frustration palpable.

"There is a lot to be concerned about. A war has begun," Kenshin retorted, his tone dripping with bitterness.

"Not the war I talk about. In danger, you are. Too close to the dark side, you walk! A Jedi, you are, and remain true to the light, you must. Help you, I can!" Yoda's voice was firm yet pleading.

Kenshin whirled around, his eyes blazing with anger. "The way you helped me when I was a 13-year-old boy who had lost the one who was like a mother to him? I'm better off without that 'help'!" Kenshin spat the last word like a curse.

"Forbidden, attachments are," Yoda said, his tone unwavering but gentle.

"Forbidden they may be, but they are a reality! You've lived nearly 900 years and you never learned that denying it is pointless! You're a hypocrite just like the others, and a senile one at that!" Kenshin's voice cracked with the weight of his pain and anger.

"Insulting me, make things better it will?" Yoda's eyes were filled with sadness, his ears drooping.

"I'm not insulting you. I'm speaking the truth," Kenshin replied, his voice growing softer but no less intense.

"Never thought you have that care about you, I do?" Yoda's words were tender, filled with a deep, abiding concern.

Kenshin's expression faltered for a moment. Did Yoda care? Did he really? A part of Kenshin longed to believe it. But how could he? He who had failed to save his Master, who had felt the pain tearing at his soul, where the Jedi Code dictated there should be no emotion. He who was still drowning in grief and guilt nearly 11 years later, and the Jedi demanded he simply forget her. He, who had failed his apprentice. The irony of his shared fate with Anakin struck him hard. All Yoda and the Jedi had offered, then and now, was 'attachments are forbidden. Mourn you must not.'

A part of Kenshin wanted to acknowledge that Yoda had tried to care, had tried to train him, had given him a home after his Master's death. But the hurt was too great. His eyes welled with tears as he turned to face the old grandmaster. Yoda's ears hung low, his gaze filled with deep sorrow.

Yoda saw the terrifying warrior before him, a Force wielder so powerful that even the most composed and reasonable Council members considered him a threat. He saw the determination to protect, to fight to the last, no matter the cost. But he also saw the young boy still inside Kenshin, devastated and torn apart, drowning in grief and guilt. Like a sick Loth kitten refusing to eat, Kenshin had rejected everything Yoda had tried to give him, and still did to this day. There was so much good in Kenshin. Yoda couldn't understand why he buried it so deep and chose pain instead.

Kenshin wanted to trust Yoda, to confide in him, to feel held, even if only for a moment. But he couldn't believe that Yoda truly cared. To the Jedi, he was nothing but a tool, a glorified search dog tracking down Sith artefacts. Needed for the dirty work but despised. Sullied by the dark side's stench. Feared by some. What the Council didn't know was that Kenshin always studied the artefacts and holocrons before turning them in. He didn't fear corruption or long for power. He simply knew he had to understand his enemy.

Kenshin had been knighted at the tender age of 16. His true master was dead. Yoda had nothing left to teach him but Jedi platitudes that wouldn't bring Master Fay back. Nor the others he had lost. He had lost too many. Ever since, he had scoured the galaxy for any trace of the Sith Order he could find. No official findings had been reported, and no acknowledgement about the attackers' affiliation had ever been made about the incident on Zeffo, but Kenshin was certain the darksider had been a Sith, an emergence as a sign that the Sith's old, evil powers and greed were not extinct, bur growing in the shadows. He knew the Dark Lord who had killed his Master was not a singular threat. Nor was the mysterious Zabrak who had emerged two years later. The Council had never taken his warnings seriously. They kept claiming they would sense it should any threat arise. Kenshin wondered what it would take for them to listen.

Now, finally, they were willing to see that the darkness was rising to new strength. Now, a war had begun. But who was behind it all, pulling the strings and weaving an ever-tighter web through the galaxy? Where was the nexus? What had Dooku meant when he said a dark lord of the Sith would control the Senate? Even Kenshin didn't have the answer. He could have killed the Separatist leader, but defending the ways of the Jedi, Yoda had stopped him from using the necessary means.

"Touched by the dark side, you have been. A difficult choice it was, to keep you with us," Yoda said, his voice tinged with regret.

"To keep me in a cell, instead of executing me right away? And to what end? Was I ever more than a tool to you? I don't need your mercy, Master Yoda!" Kenshin's voice was filled with bitterness.

"One of us, you are!" Yoda insisted, his tone firm.

Kenshin said nothing, his face a mask of defiance.

"Care I still do," Yoda said at last, his voice breaking with emotion. Kenshin met him with grim silence, so Yoda eventually left the cell with slow, heavy steps. His cane echoed off the walls. Kenshin's dark eyes followed him, then stared at the spot where the diminutive green Jedi had stood for hours after he had left. He then sank into a nebulous trance, feeling nothing but the cold emptiness within.

The three men were outwardly calm. Kenobi stood with his hands folded in the sleeves of his cloak, and Mace sat on a meditation pillow. Yoda took a seat as well, the warm, golden light of candles casting flickering shadows across the meditation chamber. The serene ambiance belied the tension underlying their conversation.

"Could you make him see any reason?" Mace asked, breaking the silence. Yoda didn't answer; the weight of his silence conveyed his response. Mace understood, or at least thought he did.

"Master Yoda, I have always respected your points of view, but Kano is dangerous!" Windu began bluntly, his voice low but intense.

"The same thing about Quinlan Vos, you once said. Jedi who are unafraid to think, we need." Yoda's voice was calm, yet firm.

"Yes, I did say that about Vos, and Vos doesn't compare to what Kano is capable of. Capable and willing to do. I sense him dangerously close to the dark side. Too close. How much longer until we have a rogue, fallen Jedi on our hands? He has done questionable things. Had you not held Kano back, he would have killed Count Dooku on the spot without any trace of mercy. He didn't merely try to kill him; he deliberately tortured him after he had already won the fight. He reveled in violence. I have never seen such murderous frenzy. He had given up control and let the dark side take over. Kano has lost his way! He has lost it a long time ago, if you ask me!" Mace's voice rose with each sentence, his frustration and fear evident.

"Wrong, Master Kano has done. Very wrong. Yet agree with you, I do not. Powerful he is, yes. Condone his actions, I do not. But never betrayed us, he has. And never betray us, he will. Warned us of a rise of the dark side, he has. Grave, the darkness in the Force is and need his strength, we will!" Yoda countered, his tone filled with conviction and a hint of sorrow.

Obi-Wan, standing by, was lost in his thoughts. A part of him was scared by Kano and the demonic energy the man was capable of releasing. But being a Jedi meant confronting fear, not locking it away. He had a feeling that Kano wasn't the true villain in this story. His fellow Jedi was misguided, certainly, but if anything, he needed help. To ostracize him would only make matters worse. 'You must trust the living Force,' Qui-Gon had always said. And then there was Anakin to consider. The Padawan had immense potential but had always been unstable. In the conversation he had had with him after the incident in the Council chamber, Skywalker had been reluctant and not very talkative. But he cared deeply about his Master; that much had become clear to Obi-Wan. As flawed as Kano was as a Jedi, to Anakin, he was a beacon of light. Someone to look up to. Maybe the only one he had. There was little that held the mess that Anakin was together, and to take that away from the young man... Obi-Wan remembered all too well what it had been like when he had lost Qui-Gon, how devastated and shaken he had been. And he had already been a mature, composed senior Padawan learner, settled in the Jedi Code and the ways of the Force, and, as Qui-Gon had gently teased, a wiser man than his own Master would ever be.

"Master Windu, if you would allow me. From my point of view, yes, Master Kano does have difficulties controlling himself, which is certainly something that needs to be addressed. But he is, as Master Yoda says, loyal and carries much compassion. Isn't compassion one of the essential columns of the light we hold dear, one of the greatest qualities a Jedi needs to strive for? His means may be questionable, but his intentions are pure. A war has started, and all Master Kano wants, what we all want, is to end it as soon as possible. We need to help him, not cut him out. And we may indeed need his powers and his help to face what is to come. He may see things we do not and fight battles we could not otherwise win," Obi-Wan said, his voice steady but earnest.

"A point, Obi-Wan has. Much good in Kenshin, I can feel. Mistakes in the past we made and repeat them, we will not," Yoda agreed, nodding slowly.

"Elevating Kano to the rank of master was a mistake. Assigning him Skywalker as Padawan was a mistake. Both are reckless, disobedient, and too powerful for their own good. Skywalker is unpredictable. Kano has come too close to the dark side. What is this, if not a blasted time bomb!" Mace exclaimed, his frustration boiling over.

"Is it, really? While I respect your perspective, Master Windu, you must see that Kano is the first Master Anakin manages to respect. Maybe for the wrong reasons, but he does respect him. I've known him when Master Qui-Gon found him, and have recently had an extensive talk with him. His relationship to his first Master had been very strained, to say the least. With Kano, he had difficulties as well, at first. Ultimately, however, I have found a great sense of care for the other in both. And Master Kano may be the only one Anakin listens to. The only one who may be able to control him," Obi-Wan countered, his tone calm yet firm.

"Dangerous, they both are. Careful we must be. I sense tied to each other they are. Break a bond forged by the Force, we must not," Yoda concluded, his voice heavy with wisdom and warning.

"I can only hope you are right," Mace muttered, his expression somber, as the weight of their decisions pressed heavily upon him.

Kenshin lay on the small cot in his cell, staring at the ceiling, lost in thought. His mind was a whirlwind of anger, guilt, and confusion. The weight of his actions pressed heavily on him, but so did the conviction that he had done what was necessary. He knew he had crossed a line, but what choice did he have? The Sith were rising, and the Jedi were too blind, too bound by their dogma to see it. He had tried to make them see, tried to protect them, but now he was the one being punished.

The door to his cell opened, and a figure stepped inside. Kenshin sat up, ready for another confrontation, but it was Obi-Wan Kenobi. Kenshin's expression softened slightly, but he remained guarded.

"Obi-Wan," Kenshin said, his voice low and tired.

"Master Kano," Obi-Wan replied, stepping closer. "May I sit?"

Kenshin nodded, and Obi-Wan took a seat on the small bench opposite the cot. There was a moment of silence before Obi-Wan spoke again.

"How are you holding up?" Obi-Wan asked, his tone gentle.

Kenshin let out a bitter laugh. "How do you think? I'm locked up like a criminal, with everyone questioning my loyalty and sanity."

"I know it's difficult," Obi-Wan said, "but we need to understand why you did what you did. The Council is trying to find a way to help you."

"Help me?" Kenshin scoffed. "They want to control me. They want to make sure I don't become a threat to their precious ideals, void of all passion…void of life!"

"That's not true," Obi-Wan insisted. "We all want to help you, Kenshin. You're one of us."

"Am I?" Kenshin challenged, his eyes locking onto Obi-Wan's. "Ever since Master Fay died, I've been on my own. I've been fighting the darkness alone, and now that I've done something about it, I'm the one in the wrong."

Obi-Wan sighed, his shoulders slumping. "I understand your frustration, but you have to see it from our perspective. Using the dark side, even for a good cause, is dangerous. It corrupts everything it touches."

"Spare me the lectures," Kenshin snapped. "I've heard them all before. The dark side, the light side. It's all just labels. The Force is the Force. It's how you use it that matters."

"But how you used it was wrong," Obi-Wan said, his voice firm. "You didn't just use the Force, Kenshin. You tortured Dooku. You enjoyed it. That's what scares the Council."

Kenshin looked away, his jaw clenched. "He deserved it. After everything he's done, he deserved worse."

"Maybe he did," Obi-Wan conceded, "but that's not for us to decide. We're Jedi. We're supposed to be better than that."

"Are we?" Kenshin whispered, more to himself than to Obi-Wan. "Are we really?"

Obi-Wan stood up, placing a hand on Kenshin's shoulder. "Yes, we are. And I believe you can be, too. But you have to let us help you. You have to trust us."

Kenshin closed his eyes, a single tear escaping down his cheek. "I don't know if I can, Obi-Wan. I don't know if I can trust anyone anymore."

Obi-Wan squeezed his shoulder gently. "Then trust in the Force. It will guide you, if you let it."

With that, Obi-Wan turned and left the cell, leaving Kenshin alone with his thoughts once more. The door closed, and the room fell into silence. Kenshin lay back down, staring at the ceiling, feeling more lost than ever.

As the door opened the next time, a few days later, he didn't react anymore. Why would he? There was no point in paying any attention to the droids cleaning his cell or bringing meals he had no interest in and never touched. He knew the importance of properly eating, sleeping, and exercising to keep oneself in fighting shape, and his usual self not only subjected himself to a rigorous training regime but also endlessly chided Anakin about the matter and the Padawan's laziness. Now, he couldn't bring himself to move and do anything other than remain in a numb haze. He was so over everything. For some reason, the nightmares and visions had stopped after he had encountered his master's Force ghost on Tatooine. He was glad about it, didn't want those nightmares to return. They had pushed him far enough to try and kill himself, and even without them, his mind was a scary enough place to be. He kept his eyes closed, back resting against the wall in the position he'd assumed days ago and didn't move an inch when the droid placed a tray next to him.

"If you're not eating that, I'll have it. I'm hungry."

The voice sounded familiar. It sounded like Anakin. Probably a dream or an illusion. He had noticed strange sensations, and his imagination had begun doing weird things these past days. The part of him that remained conscious, at least. Maybe a sign of approaching delirium. What the droids never brought were the pain meds he had developed a habit of consuming in abundance. In more honest words, he would have very well called it substance abuse. A classic case of addiction. So he figured he was experiencing withdrawal symptoms—uncomfortable but nothing unnatural and nothing to be overly concerned about.

"Uargh!" the voice from before said. "Force, this is awful! No wonder you wouldn't eat that."

Kenshin blinked groggily. He was not used to hallucinations being this stubborn. Someone tall with blonde, buzz-short hair and a braid dangling at the side stood in his cell, his mouth distorted in disgust and spitting out the remnants of the bite he had taken.

"Anakin?" he asked as his eyesight adjusted to the unfamiliar light and took in the person before him.

"Yeah, it's me, alright. Wake up, sleepyhead!"

"What are you doing here?" he mumbled.

"No 'hello, I'm glad to see you'? Or a 'hey, how are you?' I'm here to drag you out of this hole. Your detention time is over, you're being released."

With a grunt, Kenshin moved his stiffened joints and got up. He didn't get very far before his eyes went blank, and he had to steady himself against the wall. Anakin grabbed him and kept him from tumbling back to the floor again.

"Kriffin' hells! You look like the definition of bantha poodoo!"

Anakin attempted to lay one of Kenshin's arms across his shoulders to help him walk, but Kenshin pushed him away.

"Why are you here?" he asked distrustfully.

"Uhm, you're my Master? My friend? In case that has eluded you? It's me! It's Anakin! Wake up!"

Kenshin shook his head in the hope it would give him a better grasp of reality.

"I'm not to be executed? They didn't reassign you?"

"What? No! You're still my Master, I'm still your Padawan, even though you make little sense right now. Then again, when did you ever make sense?"

Finally, his Master's eyes lit up a little. Realization dawned, and he came back to his senses.

"If you worked your lightsaber skills as much as you do your wit, you'd probably rival me as a swordsman," he said.

"I thought I already did?"

Finally, a small, tired grin came to Kenshin's face. "Only in your dreams, you Kashyyykian moofmilker."

"Says the guy who makes a face like a constipated happabore! Come on now, let's get you out of here!"

In lack of a better idea, Anakin took Kenshin to his quarters and went to work making some tea. Kenobi constantly made tea; it seemed to help people feel better.

"Did they tell you what happened?" Kenshin asked.

"Master Kenobi had a talk with me and explained to me what he could. Other things I could figure out myself. They said you fell to the dark side. At least temporarily. That you tried to deep fry Dooku's mind and kill him. Although I don't entirely see why that was bad. Dooku has done terrible things. He wanted to blackmail Padmé into pledging Naboo's loyalty to the Separatists and said he'd kill her, Master Kenobi, and me if she didn't. The rest of the story on Geonosis you know. If you ask me, he deserved every bit of suffering you may have caused him. And that showdown between you and Windu? That was epic, Master. I thought you were gonna punch him in the face. Would have loved to see that!"

"Another time!" Kenshin grinned for a moment but turned serious again. "What I did...it was not the Jedi way. Maybe Yoda was right. I should have simply captured Dooku or just killed him. Instead, I lost control. I didn't even try to control myself! What I did was wrong."

"They said you touched the dark side. That you went too far. But I understand. I above all understand what going too far means! I felt the same way with the Tuskens when they killed my mother."

"It's different. It's complicated. It wasn't just rage. I sensed something in Dooku, something that wasn't him. Darker, more evil, more powerful. Not something, someone. Pure evil, and it triggered something in me. There was nothing anymore except for this urge to destroy; I wasn't truly myself anymore. It was...it was like when my Master got killed. What if it controls me? What if I cannot control myself anymore? I am preaching to you about control, and have so little grasp of it myself."

"I'm not judging you, Master," Anakin said. "You at least don't claim to know when you don't, and you don't claim to be something you are not."

Kenshin gave him a sad, grateful smile. He knew this was far from over. He didn't know how to explain it or what to do. Maybe he was dangerous, maybe he was a threat, maybe he shouldn't be Master to an already unstable apprentice. Who was he, if he lost control so easily himself? The only thing he was sure of was that he had to get to the bottom of what he had sensed. This essence of evil, hidden in depths of darkness he had not yet explored. He was scared.

"How are you?" Kenshin then asked. "Your arm...and after everything that's happened..."

"I'm fine, Master!" Anakin gave back, a little too quickly to make it sound credible.

"Are you really?" he asked. Don't lie to me. You are not alone. I am flawed, but I am here for you. The words weren't spoken out loud; they echoed in Anakin's head. He sensed them across their bond.

For a while, Anakin said nothing. He had not allowed himself to ask that question, how he truly felt, because the answers frightened him. He had been longing for his mother for so many years, and then he was only granted a few, short moments with her before she died. I didn't save her. Guilt. And love. Padmé. He imagined Kenshin would not judge him, the only Jedi who wouldn't, but he had no words for all the things that were in his heart and mind. How could he possibly explain?

"I...I don't know..." he finally began.

His comlink chirped.

"Padawan Skywalker!" someone called. It was a temple attendant. "Senator Amidala is ready and waiting."

"Thank you. I will arrive at once!"

He explained. "The Council has decided I'm to escort Padmé...Senator Amidala, I mean, back to Naboo. I have to go."

"I'm probably not in a position to give any advice to you. So I'll just ask you to be careful, Anakin. Stay true to yourself. And don't do anything too stupid!"

"I won't do anything you wouldn't do, Master," he said with a mischievous grin.

"How reassuring. May at least the Force be with you!"

"And with you. I'll see you in a few days!"

Once Anakin had left, Kenshin tried to sleep but couldn't shake off the restlessness that had set in. He had no idea why he had been released from detention so abruptly. Either way, he had work to do. He reached into the hidden pocket in his tunic and felt the strange amulet from Tatooine against his fingers. His path to the archives led past a dojo, and as he neared the dojo, he heard soft sounds. Someone was sobbing. He peeked behind a column and found a female Echani youngling, maybe seven years old at the most, crying. Great. An upset child was exactly what he didn't need right now. As exhausted as he was, he wasn't heartless.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

The child first looked at him doubtfully but then decided to talk.

"They're making fun of me. Every day. It's so hard!"

"What is hard?"

"Lightsaber training. I always miss the bolts when we practice with those droids, no matter how hard I try. And then everyone laughs at me! Our teacher tries to show me, but I never get it right!"

Kenshin sighed. He really had somewhere to be, something to do. Then again... "We will see about that," he said, gently pushing the girl into the now empty dojo and summoning a training droid and saber.

Upon seeing the droid, the girl tensed and became anxious. She focused so hard on that first bolt, obsessed with not missing it, that she trembled and nearly stumbled over her own feet. And that was the problem.

"You're tense and stiff, you stomp around like a bantha. Are you a bantha?"

The Echani gave him a confused look, but then chuckled. "No, I'm not a bantha, I guess. What do you mean?"

Kenshin sent a wave of reassurance through the Force.

"Wielding a lightsaber is an art! It's violence, but it's also joy, lightness, and flow," Kenshin tried to explain.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Don't think. Feel! Imagine you're dancing. Imagine something fun. Do you know the butterflies in the temple gardens?"

"Course I do! They're so pretty!" she exclaimed.

"Effortless and light. They feel the wind, they feel the Force, and always land on the right flower. And that is how you guide your blade. Feel. You can do it!"

A mere ten minutes and a few adjustments later, the girl sent every single bolt back at the practice droid with ease and perfect precision. In the Force, Kenshin could literally feel the joy radiating off her.

"Thank you," she exclaimed excitedly. "What's your name? I'm Nari."

"I'm Kenshin."

"When I become a Padawan, will you be my Master?"

"What? No! Bad idea!"

"Why not?" she asked, looking him up and down. "I mean, you're nice! You're a bit short, but nice!"

"What? I'm not that short!"

"For an adult male, yes, you are! And you talk a bit funny. But still better than Master Yoda! So I don't see why you couldn't be my Master!"

Kenshin didn't know what to say. Had he just been judged and burned by a youngling? The young Echani expectantly looked at him, and he only stared back. Hesitantly, he reached into the Force. He sensed an astonishing amount of strength in her. Why wasn't she scared of him? Most younglings were. Children, Force-sensitive or not, didn't know what to think of him, so they shied away. Most adults felt the same way, actually; they just felt more compelled to be polite or follow protocol.

"You're not saying anything," she stated.

"No, I...I already have an apprentice. Shouldn't you be somewhere in class? I have to go," he replied and hurried off before she could come up with a response. Trading words with a sassy youngling was not something he was familiar or comfortable with.

A gentle tap on his shoulder. Another. Kenshin finally cracked an eye open and saw himself faced with the stern glance of Jocasta Nu.

"This is the third time this week you have fallen asleep in the archives, Master Kano. I'm getting a bit tired myself of having to send you to bed every time. You're a Jedi Master, not a youngling!"

"I'm sorry," he mumbled.

"You must know your snoring is not exactly a sound that inspires concentration in other users of the library. I really suggest you take some rest elsewhere and come back another time."

Kenshin did not go to sleep, despite the fact that he currently felt three times as old as he really was. His joints were aching, his back hurt, his head was slightly pounding. He went to find himself some caf, although he was far beyond the point where caf would have helped, and came back. Madame Nu sent him a stern glare, wordlessly conveying, "I'm watching you!" Hiding the steaming, comforting mug, he settled back into the chair and continued.

He was nearly done deciphering the mysterious amulet he had found on Shmi, and what he had found was most unsettling. Digging deep in the archives, he had eventually unearthed old scripts, millennia old in fact, about Sith rituals that enabled the user to manipulate the Force from a far distance. The described procedures were immensely complex and required carefully prepared artifacts imbued with the dark side. That amulet, however, was not millennia old. The runes were, but the piece itself had been recently made. While this raised a whole new set of issues and questions, the bottom line was clear.

Shmi Skywalker's death had not been a tragic coincidence. It had been cruelly planned!

He instinctively reached for his comlink to contact Anakin, but then pulled back. With what little he knew at this point, the news would only derail his apprentice further and not lead to anything constructive. Anakin had been through too much. He would have to find out more first. Oh yes, he would find out who was behind this. And the day he'd find the ones responsible, the Force would not be with them.